


The Broken Wheel

by StarlightCaptivator



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Canon Temporary Character Death, Involuntary Introspection, Multi, Other, Prompt Fill, The relationship tag is only tangential, mostly canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 04:12:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8650858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightCaptivator/pseuds/StarlightCaptivator
Summary: The wheel turns on, the cycles plod ever forwards.Until they don't.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a request that got a little out of hand from [IvoryS-J](http://ivorys-j.tumblr.com/%22) on tumblr that I've been toying with as an abstract-styled stress relief project on my off time for the last few months. Thank you for the prompt! 
> 
> The last part will be posted in a day or two. :)

For what felt like the longest time there was just a razor's edge to his awareness, come from the pain borne in his final moments before it, and he, faded away into nothingness.

* * *

 

_Freed from his shackles and gently shrugged from the mortal coil, The Well pulled this newcomer in with the softest of embraces._

_Familiarity and family met him, encompassing and enveloping him in tales of lives lived and lives lost, and his shared back in turn- there was no need for secrets here, and the love he felt from those to meet him was absolute. The Great War, The pointless Civil War he had left behind mattered not, the the bonds of his brothers in arms, his soldiers... his former enemies, gave him comfort as he gave in turn._

_All were one, here, and there was no need for faction and struggle anymore -- though those may choose to rejoin it, after a renewal._

_His was an ancient spark, though, and he was in no rush to leave the healing the Allspark brought him, no rush to leave his old commander nor the boisterous warrior's spirit of his son, even if to find that who lingered at the edge of his spark- a broken bond from long ago belonging to a spark who just couldn't remain still._

_It was typical, and quite amusing, that he who once held a piece of himself would have gone ahead for a new adventure, but he was content to wait with the others until his sparkmate returned to this place, to him and theirs again with a new experience on the other side of things, to tell him of how a civilian frame lived, how his quiet warrior's spirit fared among their former enemies._

* * *

  
_Time, as immaterial was it was there, suddenly halted at the brush of his bonded against him- and just for the barest of moments were they reunited in spark, as they should have been with the killing blow that took his sparkmate offline all of those centuries ago- nearly all at once, his place after- life was ripped away from him as that spark so dear to him departed again, not of his own accord. He followed, as a good bonded does, though he knew not why nor how._

_Despair followed him and chased after the ripping loss of his place in the Well of Allsparks._

* * *

  
Coming back online had been.... unpleasant, to say the least. There was a certain horror to life post-afterlife, especially when that life started in a body in several pieces, none of which contained a cohesive spark chamber. The murky blackness of after-death oblivion was preferable to this. The impression that he was better off dead and gone was immediate and sudden.

....It left him with very little but anger in a hot, dull red at the ends of his severed connections.

Worst of all was the memories resurfaced from too long ago, unleashed from his altered brain module.

It was nigh impossible to prevent dwelling on those memories, on the past as a whole in his state. Simply, he lacked the hardware to lock the fractured pieces back away. Broken impressions came hard and fast as he observed those Autobots; The unending thorns in his side and his secondary reason for being in pieces.

Overlaid with them found images that in the past he was happier to soak in the misery of inebriation when he'd been alone with the past draped over his shoulders like a mantle of corrosives- images and concepts he'd use to galvanize his people. He'd even intended such with that word and that word melded into a name to model after his own with the emergence of he-whom-could-have-been-heir.

It was a semblance of a modular warrior-family, symbolic to him and his people. He, the ruler, the unconquerable, with the nemesis of the Autobot race at his side, a true representative of the ideas that chosen function was second to form- not to mention that he was a highlight of decepticon superiority. Their offspring was a catalyst to all, his on-lining bringing with it an unmatched hope and morale along with a unified push inwards. His death, by that same measure, still motivated his people, but into a ferocity and cruelty unmatched by other Autobot transgressions.

And now looking through the surveillance the wider world provided for him in Sumdac tower, Megatron saw similarities in those phantasmal memories overlaid onto real time that made non-existent fuel tanks heave with imagined sensation- A spark without cohesion nor place long to reach out and make contact.

When he had his form restored, Megatron promised himself he would make it a point to rend the imposter's helm from his shoulders and upon the retaking of Cybertron; to do the same to his designer for this slight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand, Part two. This takes place in that last little bit of TFA, before they reach Cybertron. 
> 
> ~~yes I totally did just pause a few days for effect fight me~~
> 
> Thanks for reading!

As he sat in Omega Supreme's hold with his decepticons, there was a preternatural sense of finality in the air- in him.

It was as if a strange calmness had fallen over his spark, or perhaps it was more like it had been soothed at aching edges, enveloped in a calm only matched as of late by combat with the team of misfit Autobots.

He was _overtaken_ by it, and yet... he'd give no fight as of now, he _had_ none in him left. How could he, with such inexplicable _irony_ spun in with that unnatural calm.

Megatron allowed himself a fleeting thought of _his_ Nemesis, the mechanism he called his own. He thought of green digits and accents, matte black plating that could melt effortlessly into the shadows of many a night on a darkened world, _such_ defiant optics in a set that didn't back down or look away in the face of Megatron's intimidating mass and... and....

The realization hit him nearly as hard as the Magnus hammer had, and all at once his reformed spark clenched as his mind spun.

This was some perverted poetic justice if he had ever heard of it, and that calm echo from the missing piece of his spark confirmed his suspicions in just how very _accepting_ it was of the events at hand.

Oh, to be taken back to Cybertron and to certain execution by he who was once his sparkmate- in another life, of course. It didn't apply _now_ but he could see it especially in that battle damage from their final foray- the cracks adorning the little Prime's faceplates when he'd peer into his cell at him framed by a dented helm, in those optics narrowed in a scorn he'd last seen mirrored lifetimes before the universe had even deigned to have an inkling of a being named _Optimus Prime_ , when he had been a young, cocksure mech so wound up in his own ability and trying to impress with the destruction of a long dead enemy known to both factions.

The logical part of his processor knew the Strika would come for her lord, his most loyal officers and her own mate before the Autobots had a chance to kill them- that is unless they were to be lined up and executed as soon as they landed.

It's what _he_ would have done, but Autobots did so like their pomp in ceremony.

An enraged emotional center fought for dominance over a placid spark and he tried to call it weak, tried to call it foolish in the face of myth and coincidental looks. He reminded himself of all he had lost- those he had lost in his struggle.

The sear of full-body pain when a stray high-powered blaster shot took Nemesis from him, the energy lance propelled fast enough to punch through his son's armor and extinguish his spark before Galvatron could even hit the ground...

Megatron tried to hold on to those memories that fueled the personal edges of his war... only to be met with grief. For that grief to be soothed unerringly and disturbingly by his preternaturally calm spark to a sense that for some untenable reason, no matter the outcome of his life- it would all be alright..there was no need to work himself up, it said.

His spark did not care about his anger. His spark was unmoved in its conviction that he just couldn't grasp and as long it felt that he was displaced, but _so_ close to what it needed, he would be unmoved, too.


End file.
